One Shot: Agent Coulson
by TheBeautyOfLife
Summary: Agent Coulson was on his very first operation without help nearby. It was going very well - until it wasn't. Sorry about the categories, I wasn't sure where to put this.


:Russia – 2:03 am:

Philip John Coulson was having a hard time trying to stay calm as he sat in the inconspicuous van stationed just outside the mark's favorite pub in Russia. There wasn't any need to be, as he'd done all of his research and his best to make sure nothing – absolutely nothing – went awry. Of course, when things began to go too smoothly, that was when Muprhy's Law came into play. Phil had seen it time and time again with the agents before him. But, he thought to himself, none of them had Nick Fury as a semi-mentor.

And it was true, no one he'd met had been taught under the head honcho, only he was the one person to survive Nick's teachings and come out singing. That wasn't to say he hadn't faltered a few times – okay, more than a few – and wished Nick had chosen someone else but when he received praise for an assignment well done, there wasn't much to do about it but be grateful.

Now, though, Phil was wishing once again that he'd had been left behind.

Nothing had happened for the past hour and he was beginning to worry that his information had been faulty. None of the cameras and snipers caught any sight of him, nor had the technicians inside the van with him. The streets were as empty as ghost town and it was worrying to see. At this point, the mark should have been ambling down the road in a drunken stupor but there hadn't been so much as a small snippet of movement. Several scenarios were running through his mind and none of them were at all helpful in his case or to the operation.

"Sir, there's movement." A technician sitting to his left spoke softly, pointing to one of the many screens and shaking him out of his thoughts.

Phil stared hard at the screen, hoping against hope that it was their mark but had them dashed as a stray cat (a Maine Coon from the size of it) walk out from the shadows and sit down next to the building where one of his snipers was positioned. It looked around and Phil felt a strange tingle go down his spine as the cat caught sight of a camera to its left. Bright amber eyes gleamed in the dull lamp light, the night vision adding to the surreal nature of the strange eye color.

"Weird cat." The technician commented and Phil nodded in agreement.

For the next hour, the cat didn't move at all, choosing to sit by the stone wall. It would occasionally look up into the camera; like it was waiting for something. Phil found that to be odd but there wasn't much time to think on that when his mark finally made his way down the street. His relief didn't last long when he noticed that something was a bit off. For one, the mark wasn't drunk. His pattern had shown that he enjoyed getting blitzed on Friday nights with his friends before going home to watch soap opera re-runs. A strange hobby but it was better compared to his other '_hidden delights_'.

Deciding to be safe than sorry, he spoke into his headset, "Gentlemen, our mark isn't drunk. When you get a chance, take the shot quickly. Something isn't right."

"_Right, boss."_

Phil watched with apprehension as the mark walked leisurely down the sidewalk, hands in his coat pockets while he whistled a happy tune. Nothing about it seemed out of the ordinary but he couldn't help the suspicion he was feeling. All his research had claimed that the mark would be roaring drunk, unable to walk in a straight line but was coherent enough to find his own house. This was the complete opposite and it didn't sit well with Phil. The entire situation felt off and he had to do something about it before his team suffered the effects of his mistakes.

As he was about to speak into his headset, the mark paused his stride beside a large empty lot and turned to face the road. Phil frowned heavily, hand raised to his headset as he watched the screen intently. For a few minutes nothing happened, the mark was just standing there like a spare prick at a wedding. Phil didn't want to move at all in case it somehow wrecked the silence. There was movement from the corner of his eye and he caught the Maine Coon move from its spot but he didn't see where it went off to.

"I know you're there! I know all about... your little _plan_!" The mark yelled into the night, a slur added to his already terrible accent and it was a miracle that Phil was able to decipher it at all.

_'Alright, I was wrong. He's drunk but not by much.' _"Do any of you have a clear shot?" Phil asked quietly, and he could hear slight movement through the headset.

"_Not a very good one, sir. Jackson has a decent aim but it would only clip his ear."_ Mason said, clearly frustrated.

"Right. Our best option is to wait it out. Keep watch."

"_Roger that."_

"You're never going to get me! I'm... I'm fucking _invincible_!" The mark laughed loudly, the sound echoing in the night and it sent shivers up Phil's spine.

His words didn't make any sense until the mans hands left his pockets to spread straight out vertically, ending in the Jesus pose. Phil's sight zeroed in on the item he held in his hand. There wasn't much he could see in the dim light but even a legally blind man couldn't miss the bright red trigger that gleamed in the barely-there street lamp.

_Shit._

"That's not good." The technician muttered, staring at the screen. Phil would have rolled his eyes if he hadn't of been just as frightened as the man next to him.

"Gentlemen, take him out. I don't care how many shots it takes – kill the bastard." Phil demanded, never taking his eyes off the drunk man as he spoke heatedly into the headset.

"_It would be our pleasure, sir."_ Mason said, and Phil could just imagine the wide grin on his sniper's face. While that might have been creepy in any other situation, right that moment the it was very reassuring to the agent.

Phil waited impatiently, and in vague panic, as he heard them move into a better position. He didn't move, speak, hell he couldn't even breathe as Mason and Jackson lined up with the mark, taking their aim. Metallic clicks of the rifle chamber came over the comm and Phil felt his heart skip a beat as they both took the shot. For a moment, everything seemed to go by in slow motion; Phil could visualize the bullets leaving the gun chamber, smoke rising in the cold night air as the two raced to meet their target. Elation ran wrought through him as he saw the mark take the hits, falling to the ground in a tangled heap, the detonator flying a few feet from his position.

Seconds passed and the happiness was quickly snuffed out. Phil watched in fascinated horror as his mark slowly sat up and grinned in the direction of the snipers, blood dribbling from the corners of his mouth. What the hell? Those shots were meant to kill him.

_Why wasn't he dead?!_

"_What the **fuck**?"_ Mason exclaimed, not even caring about keeping quiet anymore,_ "That was supposed to kill the bastard!"_

None of them could say anything; they all knew where those bullets were aimed and the explanation didn't even bear thinking about. Oh boy, Nick was going to _love_ him after this was done.

The mark stood up, sluggishly but definitely alive, and he made steps toward the detonator only ten feet from him. Phil cursed, chastising himself for hesitating when he should have been ordering his snipers to take another shot.

"He can't get that detonator. He'll take out the nearest ten blocks if he does. Keep him busy!" he ordered harshly, praying that a miracle would happen. As the operation was only meant for one man, a small contingent was sent with him to keep the mark quiet if they didn't manage to kill him. The two technicians, the two snipers and himself were the only people available.

Suddenly, a darkened figure darted out from the shadows before Mason and Jackson could do anything, and downright pounced on the mark with a ferocity that Phil envied. The attacker was fast, strong and his image blurred on the screen so much that it was difficult to keep track of him, even with the motion smoothing on the cameras. The mark put up a less than valiant effort, hardly fighting back as he didn't even have a _chance_ to try. Any time he tried to throw a punch, the shadowed man had already moved seconds before. The man was literally running circles around Phil's mark and it was kind of humorous when it wasn't Phil being the one ran around. He decided to watch and see what happened, possibly try to offer the man a job if they all survived.

Then, just as the attacker put the mark on the ground, Phil saw the Russian's hand twitch and catch hold of the detonator. His heart skipped a beat as he dimly saw the mark's finger press down the red trigger. Beeping echoed loudly in the empty air, signaling the end of this job. The dark figure stopped, turned around swiftly and screamed in their direction in a strong, English voice.

"_Run!_ Get your people out of here– ! "

**Boom.**

Phil never heard the end of his demand. In fact, he never heard anything else besides the loud ringing in his ears that seemed to never end. The explosion blast was a ten block radius, and while they were at the very edge of said radius, it still meant they were flipped onto their side. He and his technicians were pushed to the back of the van and all the equipment that wasn't attached to the wall fell onto them.

Darkness covered his vision.

He didn't know how long he'd been out but he did know that whatever had hit him was no slouch. As he peered at the bluish ceiling, he remembered what happened before he blacked out and tried to get to his feet. Tried being the operative word. Barely conscious, Phil did his best his best to speak through the headset to reach his snipers.

"... M-Mason." Phil croaked hoarsely, lifting a hand to cradle his forehead. A sticky residue was sliding down his temple and he knew exactly what it was but finding out if his men were fine came first.

"Mason, _report_."

Static came over the comm and Phil became concerned for all of five seconds before he heard faint coughing through the headset. Relief was instant and packed quite a punch as he slowly stood up. When he was able, Phil made his way through the fallen equipment to check on his technicians. Glad they were only unconscious rather than dead, Phil pushed open the van doors with some effort to get outside. Once they were practically pried open, he almost fell onto the ground as he missed the step but managed to keep standing with help of the doors. He surveyed the area, he had to hold onto the van to keep himself upright as he took in the giant crater with wide eyes.

It was fifteen feet in length and width, and probably just as deep. Phil stepped towards it slowly, taking in the masonry and debris that covered the level ground around the deep hole. He couldn't help but wonder where the mark was or at least – where the rest of him was. There was nothing at all besides smoke and rocks in the crater. There was no sign of the attacker either, which made him feel all the more guilty that that man had died with their target.

_'Well, might want to get the cleanup crew down here.'_ Phil thought, taking out his cell phone and flipping it open.

"Coulson here. Yes, I need a cleaning crew down here. Yes, the mark is gone. Five minutes? Good." He closed his phone and stared at the crater for a few more seconds before returning to his van.

While he and his team pushed the van upright and cleaned the interior, he thought about the attacker that showed up just in the nick of time. The man had moved faster than any normal human being he'd ever seen and he'd seen some strange people in his time of service. None of them had been that quick or strong. If he had survived, Nick would have definitely wanted Phil to offer him a job. Not that he blamed the man; he would have made on hell of a field agent.

Five minutes later, the cleanup crew arrived in a helicopter and began their job. Phil stayed behind as the technicians and snipers were checked out by the accompanying medics, and left. Since he was the operator of the mission, it was his duty to stay while everything was sorted out. It wasn't the most stellar part of his job but he was someone who finished what he started and leaving a mission open ended was not in his repertoire. He stood by as his clean up crew did their best to make it seem that an explosion never happened and he found it odd that there weren't any people outside wondering what was going on. Apparently, loud blasts were commonplace noises around this area.

Phil sighed as he watched the crew members work, feeling a little bit bored. The mission, as well as the altercation at the end, had given him such an adrenalin rush that his bones ached with standing around doing nothing. But, the cleaning crew should be finished fairly soon and he'd be carted off to headquarters to offer his report to Nick.

As he waited, he heard an odd noise. It was quiet, almost unnoticeable with everyone walking around on the rocks. Frowning, Phil slowly made it way towards the sound and noticed it was emanating from the crater. Standing at the edge of the deep hole, he peered into the dark hole and tried his best to copy the night vision his cameras had. There wasn't much he could see, even with the bright lights that surrounded the area but he did catch movement at the edge of the crater on the opposite side. His eyes zeroed in on it and didn't blink until whatever had moved, did so again.

_There._

Phil narrowed his eyes as both sound and movement synchronized, giving him the vague impression that a very large slug was moving about in the darkness. But that would be impossible, as no slugs could survive in the chilled Russian night. Then, more of the same noises came from around him and he looked down at his feet when his peripheral vision saw motion. His eyes widened as he watched a thick piece of what looked to be human flesh slide by quickly into the crater. Phil was equally horrified and mesmerized when multiple chunks all congregated in the hole.

Something strange was going on and Phil was going to be the one to witness it first hand.

_'What the ever living hell is going on?'_ he thought, feeling as though he should start panicking but nothing of the sort was trying to take over his body. If anything, he was interested to see what would happen.

Within seconds, the flesh began to meld together, creating some kind of morbid mannequin. Phil couldn't look away as the figure – finally put back together – slowly stood. It was tall, a little on the thin side and slightly muscled in all the right places. There was only a moment to admire the figure before clothing appeared out of thin air, laying themselves on the body elegantly. The articles of fabric were a mixture of two cultures; Japanese and English from what Phil could see. They were dark colors, of the royal and jewel tones, and matched the pale skin nicely.

Then, features began to emerge from the smooth canvas of skin and hair grew from the scalp quickly. While he couldn't make out the face very well, he could plainly see the stark white hair that was a sharp contrast in comparison to the shadows around him. The locks grew to the waist, wavy in form and strangely enough, tied off in a dark ribbon. Finally, when the transformation had completed, a thick chained necklace draped itself around the mans neck gently. A deep blood red jewel sat encrusted in silver and laid directly over his exposed collar bone.

It was silent a few moments at the man – was he really a man, though? – caught his bearings. Phil was frozen while the as of yet unknown man stretched his newly regenerated muscles. Then, after he'd cracked his neck, Phil heard the same cultured English accent before the explosion speak.

"Bloody hell, I _hate_ it when that happens." he said, sounding immensely irritated with the circumstances surrounding his resurrection. And there wasn't anything Phil could do to prevent it, nothing at all could have stopped what happened next.

He laughed.

The white haired man jerked his head up and Phil was speared with familiar bright amber eyes that bored into his soul without remorse, tearing down any defenses that he had. For one tenth of a second – which felt like an eternity slowed down to Phil – they both stared at each other before the resurrected man suddenly disappeared, leaving behind nothing but a cloud of dust.

Phil gazed at the spot the man had been with shocked interest and slight amusement before he realized that he'd forgotten to offer the man a job.

Sighing in resignation, Phil walked back to the cleanup crew as they finished up and stepped into the helicopter.

_'Nick is going to **love** what I've got to say.'_

Chapter End


End file.
